


Damocles

by samsarapine



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Blanket Permission, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-07
Updated: 2011-09-07
Packaged: 2017-10-23 12:49:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samsarapine/pseuds/samsarapine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fate hangs over their heads, but Dokugakuji refuses to bow before it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damocles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Feait](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Feait).



****

Damocles

 _"The value of the sword is not that it falls, but rather, that it hangs."_ Anon.

 

The moon hung overhead, a silver crescent sleek and deadly as a saber.

Dokugakuji spread his blankets, finished stripping, and sank to his knees, burying his fists in the thick folds of his makeshift bed and shivering in the cold desert air, vulnerable and aching. “Fuck me, Kou.”

The words, powerful as an aphrodisiac, caused his blood to surge into his groin and he took his cock into a firm grip, more to soothe than arouse as he bowed his head. He could hear Kougaiji moving behind him, cautious, the scrape of leather against sandstone and the too-steady breathing that betrayed just how tightly Kougaiji was holding his passions in check. When they were at Houtou Castle, sex was civilized, but out here they could be demons. He’d prepared himself before they’d left the castle; once they stopped for the night, neither would want to waste time simply for safety or comfort’s sake.

A hand so hot it burned flattened against the small of his back, a split second’s warning before Kougaiji sank deep into him in one smooth motion, rough and chafing and perfect. Dokugakuji grunted as Kougaiji pulled back, only to slide deeper, heat licking into Dokugakuji’s gut with each firm stroke. “Harder,” he gasped.

“I’ll hurt you.” Kou’s voice was breathless and pained. “Tomorrow--”

“I want this. Make me remember this.” Sweat ran into Dokugakuji’s eyes and he awkwardly wiped it away, bracing himself as Kou set a punishing pace.

The power behind each thrust of Kougaiji’s hips sparked Dokugakuji’s blood, his heart pounding as delicious tension built and spread through his body, until his face and chest flushed warm with arousal and his breath caught in his throat. He groaned and fell to his elbows, angling his body so each stroke could sink deeper within him.

Kougaiji’s fingers dug into his hips, holding him in place. Dokugakuji welcomed the small pain, knowing he’d bear the bruises for days; if they had days left, anyway. But if they didn’t, he liked the idea that he might go to his death with Kou’s fingerprints buried deep in his flesh, the memory of their passion still visible even to their enemies.

They fucked nearly silently but for the harsh sound of their breathing and the slap of skin against skin. Kougaiji bent closer to him and wrapped an arm around his waist, bearing Dokugakuji down to lie prone on the blankets before bracing his knees on either side of Dokugakuji’s and pounding harder into him, his weight and gravity pressing Dokugakuji into the blankets and the stony ground underneath.

“Oh, shit. Yes.” He could feel himself flying higher, almost there... He tried to hold the feeling, wanting to balance on the cusp like this forever, to stop time and just be, with Kou, but he could feel his body spiraling beyond control. Kougaiji was so deep inside him that Dokugakuji felt split in two and woven together at the same time, so close to Kougaiji that, for a moment, he felt like they were one person, a perfect union of lust and love and power.

The moment crescendoed and broke. Dokugakuji came hard, his sight going white as he shook in completion. Kougaiji kept moving, his cock sending new sparks through Dokugakuji’s body even as his climax crashed and began to ebb.

Clawed hands clenched harder and Kougaiji pulled him close, plunging in until Dokugakuji felt his balls resting against his ass and they were pressed skin to skin the length of their bodies, Kou’s front to his back. Warmth spread deep inside. Kougaiji groaned; Dokugakuji shivered and his spent cock twitched, and he wished he could hear that sound again and again, because the hunger in it was for him and no one else.

They collapsed onto his blankets, Kougaiji draped over him with his cheek pressed against Dokugakuji’s ear, his warm breath damp against Dokugakuji’s skin.

Dokugakuji shifted and turned his head to capture Kou’s lips. Kougaiji’s kisses always tasted sweeter after sex, heavy and sated and always, always tender. It was the only time Kougaiji ever said, “I love you,” - never in words, but through the language of lips and tongue and breath, a silent pledge that devastated Dokugakuji every time they made love.

He always did his best to say it back, using the same language. He knew Kou heard him, but it was important to make sure that he not only heard it, but knew, so he said it over and over, until his lips felt chapped and his tongue numb, and still he kissed Kou.

He couldn’t help the dismayed noise that escaped him as Kougaiji gently disengaged, rubbing his thumb over Dokugakuji’s lips. He couldn’t take his eyes from Kou’s face as Kou pulled the blankets half over them and lay back, staring up at the moon.

“The army should be in place by now. They’ll hold the road to the castle if we can’t--”

Dokugakuji put his fingers against Kougaiji’s mouth, silencing him. He felt Kou’s eyes on him as he withdrew his hand and began to trace his name over Kougaiji’s collarbone. “Let’s not talk about tomorrow.”

Pain flickered across Kougaiji’s face: not from the gentle rebuke or the caress, Dokugakuji knew, but from the knowledge that tomorrow’s battle would likely be the final one, and that Dokugakuji would always, always follow him, no matter where he led.

“We’ll be fine,” Dokugakuji said.

“Of course.” But a shadow lingered in Kougaiji’s eyes.

Dokugakuji placed the last character stroke on warm skin, his finger following the line of a faded scar, and immediately started again at the top, nestling the first character in the join of Kougaiji’s neck and shoulder. Maybe if he wrote his name enough times, Kougaiji would belong to him.

Like hell. Or in hell, maybe.

He tried to make each stroke perfect. “You have the most delectable neck. Can I tattoo my name there?”

Kougaiji let out a short huff. “No.” After a moment, he added, “Idiot.”

Dokugakuji grinned, staring at his moving finger and the smooth skin beneath it. “Not the best at pillow talk, are you?”

“Pillow talk.”

A small bit of tension drained from Kougaiji’s body. He sighed. Dokugakuji knew he was being humored, but it was all good. “Yeah. You know. Post-sex sexy talk. Where I tell you about your manly prowess and stuff like that.”

Kougaiji regarded him with grave eyes. “My manly prowess.”

“Mmm.” Dokugakuji pulled on Kougaiji’s arm and sat up, smiling as his lover allowed himself to be re-arranged until he was reclined in just the perfect position, not too heavy but solid and warm in Dokugakuji’s arms. He nuzzled Kougaiji’s neck. “You fuck like a dream.”

“Better than a nightmare, I suppose.” The tone was dry.

“Much,” Dokugakuji agreed, letting his grin color his words. He traced a pointed ear with his tongue. “I mean it, though. People should watch us, learn how to do things right.”

“Exhibitionist.”

“Mmm.” Kougaiji’s skin tasted of the desert, with musky overtones. “We could make a video.”

“Should I be looking for a hidden camera?”

“Damn. Knew I forgot something.”

Kougaiji rolled his head to the side, staring at Dokugakuji. Though his face was dark, hidden in the moon’s shadows, Dokugakuji had the distinct feeling that Kougaiji was smiling. “We’d need better lighting.”

“I was going for ambiance.”

A ripple seemed to run through Kougaiji, and his smile faded while his gaze sharpened so keenly that Dokugakuji felt it like a scalpel on his skin. He shivered and tried to pull Kougaiji close, but Kougaiji resisted.

Kougaiji’s voice sharpened as well. “Why?”

“Why, what?” Dokugakuji held still, wary of Kougaiji’s eyes, glinting dark and brilliant as the arc of the empty moon. “Why I didn’t bring a camera?”

“Why did you stay?”

Dokugakuji forced himself to relax, scratching his head and trying to look harmless. Something about Kougaiji was... not off, not exactly, but intense, as if they were strangers and Kou was trying to determine whether Dokugakuji was an enemy or an ally. “Kou, I don’t get it. Stay where?”

“With me. All those years ago. Now. Why?”

Dokugakuji blinked. Did he have an answer to that question? If so, he wasn’t sure what it would be. Maybe... because he had been at the end of his rope, hating himself and the world and (desperately grasping) at the cloak of integrity that had seemed to envelope Kougaiji from the first time he laid eyes on him, hoping it wasn’t just another illusion. Or because Kougaiji, for all of his power, had been (and was still) idealistic enough to think that living with honor was better than dying with regrets. Because Kou had looked like Gojyo and offered a second chance to set things straight, since Dokugakuji had been pretty sure at the time that Gojyo was dead or lost forever to him but he had still been his little brother and he’d hoped that maybe Kou would learn to need him as much as Gojyo had, but maybe he wouldn’t screw things up this time. Or, most likely, because, deep down, Dokugakuji had been a coward who hadn’t wanted to be responsible for his fate any longer, given his dismal track record when it came to making the big decisions, and he’d seen Kougaiji as someone who would simply let him follow while Kougaiji assumed the burden of responsibility.

Maybe it had been all of those things. But Dokugakuji suspected there had been no real reason, because reason had had nothing to do with a decision that had been made by a man half-mad with grief and guilt and loneliness.

The desert air felt like a vacuum, cold and breathless and empty of sound or movement. Every moment that stretched between them sank deeper into the darkness, and still Kougaiji waited and Dokugakuji wracked his mind for an answer.

“I can’t imagine being anywhere else,” he finally said, mouth dry and voice cracked. “It was you. The first time I saw you, I knew I had found what - who - I was looking for. I’m supposed to be here. If I was anywhere else,” he knew he looked and sounded like an idiot, like a child, but he just couldn’t find other words for it, “I’d be in the wrong place.”

“As simple as that?”

Well, no, not really. But it wasn’t all that complicated, either, once you peeled away motive and ego and fate and chance. It was what it was - he was beside Kougaiji because this was his place to be, and thank the kamis he’d recognized it and had just enough guts left in his fucked up life to grab the position with everything inside him.

Dokugakuji shrugged. “Just about.”

“This wasn’t the pillow talk you were looking for,” Kougaiji finally said.

“And when did you ever start doing the expected?” Dokugakuji said, lightly cuffing Kou’s head and then smoothing the still-sweaty hair from his brow with careful fingers. “Besides, I took all the good lines already. You’d only be left with things like, ‘oh baby, you’re so hot, you turn me on something fierce’ or something lame like that.”

He felt Kou’s body shake slightly and interpreted it as silent laughter. It made him want to hold Kou tighter so he did, a rough/gentle embrace that he hoped was more articulate than the words he couldn’t order in his head enough to say out loud.

The silence stretched, but it too felt right, like the calm eddy of water at the far end of a waterfall’s wake, a swirl of sated energy and mysterious currents.

Dokugakuji wondered if Kougaiji had fallen asleep. It would be nice if he had; he’d driven himself so hard, overcome so much, and now there was only tomorrow left. He deserved whatever peace he could find, however brief.

His hopes were dashed.

“They should arrive by midday.”

No, not asleep. Thinking. Too much. Like usual. “Yeah.”

Dokugakuji closed his eyes and imagined the battlefield. Gojyo’s hair would blaze like blood across the sun, and he’d be torn all over again, except not really, because, well, Kou was Kou, and if he lost Gojyo he’d carry his guilt like a cancer for the rest of his life, but if he lost Kougaiji, he’d berserk before he followed him to hell.

The air between them, heated by their bodies, held treasures more precious than kyoumen. Kougaiji smelled of sweat and semen, fire and sand. To think of that scent, this solid body he held, coppery with blood and lifeless... it would be far easier to pay the price of the destruction of the world than to have to witness Kou’s death.

Dokugakuji suppressed a shiver. He’d face his losses in the morning. Tonight he would be greedy, he would drink and taste and smell and look and devour and be devoured and his name would be on Kougaiji’s lips and skin and they would be demons and men and lovers and comrades together, and whatever came with the rising sun could go to hell.

“You’re too damned pragmatic,” he whispered.

A hand that could crush stone slipped around his head and buried painfully in his hair, claws scratching scalp. Dokugakuji kissed Kou’s shoulder before he allowed Kougaiji to pull him down and Kougaiji’s perfect mouth to steal his lips.

“And you’re too damned romantic,” Kougaiji whispered back.

Dokugakuji smiled and surrendered without contradicting him even though, really, they were both wrong, because he was really the pragmatic one and Kou was really the romantic and tomorrow they might simply be past tense, but tonight, they were each the other and they were together and the moon was a shining saber overhead.

He kissed Kougaiji again and hoped he heard all that Dokugakuji was saying.

And all he would never be able to say.  


~fin~


End file.
